


My Fingers in Creases of Distant Dark Places

by liketreesinnovember



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, POV Zuko (Avatar), Pining, Post-Canon, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketreesinnovember/pseuds/liketreesinnovember
Summary: Every so often, Firelord Zuko would leave the running of a nation in the hands of those he trusted, cut his hair, and exchange his royal robes for the weather-worn garb of a commoner, to remind himself of the lessons of his youth, many of which he had learned too late.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Aang/Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	My Fingers in Creases of Distant Dark Places

Healing a broken nation was no easy task, especially when it seemed sometimes determined to stay broken, and as much as Zuko was forced to delegate more and more due to the sheer  _ amount _ of work that needed to be done to repair the damage the Fire Nation had done to their own people as well as the rest of the world, he also made a point of being personally involved in every plan and project of his council. But every so often, Firelord Zuko would leave the running of the nation in the hands of those he trusted, cut his hair, and exchange his royal robes for the weather-worn garb of a commoner, to remind himself of the lessons of his youth, many of which he had learned too late. That was one reason why he felt he needed reminders, for he knew what happened when a leader forgot his duty.

It was hard to go in disguise when you had one of the most recognizable faces in all the nations, largely thanks to the scar which marred the left side of his face. However, he found that if he stuck to the smaller towns and villages in more remote areas of the Earth Kingdom, he often went unnoticed and even unremarked. It gave him a feeling of anonymity that he had rarely enjoyed in his life. Even before he'd received the scar that marked him as the once-banished prince of the Fire Nation, he'd consistently wished for the freedom of fading into the background during lessons when he knew he could never measure up to his sister or his cousin, but the Firelord's son was never allowed such a luxury. When he'd been a refugee in the Earth Kingdom, before he'd helped the Avatar end the war, people had noticed, had stared, some with sympathy and some with disgust, but far too few people had been surprised to see a young man with a scarred face. Burn scars were horrifically common among those who had been ravaged by the Fire Nation, some even worse than his own. Scarring the face, in particular, was a punishment for flagrant disrespect and rebellion that had been enforced with extreme cruelty in some of the former colonies, a way to publicly humiliate those who would dare oppose the Firelord's will and to demoralize the leaders of such a rebellion. Thus, to his surprise, he'd encountered many people who saw his scar as a badge of honor.

He'd made part of the journey on a small deep-sea fishing vessel, signing on as part of the crew and working himself to exhaustion, and practically falling into the small cot provided to him at night, as the waters that surrounded them grew colder, and the days grew shorter, until all of them were enveloped in the perpetual night of arctic winter. His inner fire burned dimly but defiantly against the lack of sunlight, giving him enough strength to make the rest of the way on his own. They’d left him at the last port city with enough salted fish that he didn’t have to hunt for food, and he’d been walking for days when he'd come upon the small village, his feet aching and numb from the cold in their sturdy, fur-lined boots. They were good boots, insulated enough to keep him dry and prevent him from losing a few toes to frostbite. They were the best one could find for such weather and made in the Southern Water Tribe, as was the cloak of arctic fox-hare that he wore pulled tightly around his shoulders, but still they could not keep the cold away entirely.

As he finally crested the slope of a high hill, he could see smoke rising on the horizon. And then he saw her, running across the snow, and before he knew it she was on him, embracing him with a fierceness that threatened to knock him off balance among the steep snowdrifts.

She held him at arm's length, her eyes dancing as she surveyed him. "You almost look Water Tribe," Katara said, smiling. "But you lumber through the snow like an ox-bear. I could see you coming for miles. I thought you'd never make it."

"I'm happy you didn't have your warriors shoot me on sight, then," he said, his mouth crooked.

She laughed. "I told them not to slay any lumbering ox-bears that might wander too close to the village."

"For that, I'm very thankful."

She laughed again, lifting a hand to brush the ends of his hair, and for a moment he thought she might scold him for cutting it, but instead she said, "Come, you must be freezing,” and began to pull him along.

He let his breath steam in front of his face in response. Being a firebender  _ definitely _ had its advantages in cold climes, but it also meant that he hadn’t truly realized how much his body had missed the heat until he was seated by the great fire, surrounded by faces which he now could put names to, every one. He hadn’t when he’d first came to this place. That seemed like an entire lifetime ago.

He’d spent so long relying on his own inner fire to keep him warm that he hadn’t realized how exhausted he was, either, now that he could relax and exult in the heat of the flames. Katara seemed to notice this too, and she sat down beside him and took his hands and rubbed them between her own as he shivered.

He heard someone coming up behind him, footsteps crunching in the snow, but he didn’t have time to turn around before arms were flung over his shoulders. Zuko stiffened, but relaxed when he heard the voice. “Hey! Zuko!”

Zuko almost crumpled beneath Aang’s sudden weight, and the strength of the arms wrapped around him. He’d grown heavier since last he’d seen him, and a whole lot stronger, as was immediately apparent, and Aang was currently leaning all his weight into Zuko. It had been near a year since they'd last spoken, before Aang had left on one of his frequent pilgrimages, and as he turned to look at him, Zuko also noted sheepishly that if he stood he might find that the Avatar had grown to be  _ taller than him _ as well. Aang seemed totally oblivious to this fact and seemed intent on crushing Zuko in a strangling bear hug, and only relaxed when he noticed the strain of Zuko’s breath, and finally let go of him, just a little.

Sokka moved to sit around his other side, and Zuko shifted so that he wasn’t in his blind spot, as the previous attack had left him a little flustered, but he reminded himself that these were his friends. Sokka’s easy smile, and Aang’s open affection, and Katara’s tut-tutting as she ran her fingers through his hair did much to put him at ease.

“Too bad Toph isn’t here,” said Aang.

“You know how much she hates the cold.” And how impossible it was to get Toph to do anything that wasn’t already her idea, Zuko thought, though he was also glad that she had remained in Caldera to keep an eye ( _ or an ear _ , he’d corrected himself;  _ or a foot _ , she had replied;) on things while he was gone. Everyone knew how much the Firelord trusted her, and even those on his council who he suspected were plotting his downfall were kept at bay by the very fact that they were much more afraid of her than they were of him.

“So do you,” Katara said.

“I can make exceptions.”

Besides, he found he didn’t mind the cold so much, and he felt a warmness inside him now that had nothing to do with the heat of the fire or his own bending as he sat surrounded by friends. Sokka regaled him with the story of how he and the other warriors had taken down an elephant seal-lion a few days ago that was all the more entertaining for Sokka’s humorous embellishments, and passed him a mug of something hot that burned as it went down, but not unpleasantly. Aang had moved to sit on Katara’s other side and the two leaned into each other, watching the flames dance against the darkened sky, and Zuko noticed Aang’s arm around her waist, those arms that seemed to have grown so much thicker since the last time he had seen him. Zuko watched the two in silence. However close he was to either of them, whatever it was he shared with Katara, he felt a bit like he was intruding on something, and wondered if things would change between himself and Katara now that Aang was back.

Aang caught him looking and Zuko turned his gaze away, focusing on the fire, but a moment later his friend leaned around Katara, his reach so much wider than it had been a year ago, and put a hand on Zuko's shoulder, pulling him into the couple’s embrace. Zuko almost dropped his mug.

"Firelord Hotman is feeling lonely, I think," Aang said.

"Don't call me that," Zuko protested, feeling his face heat up a bit, from the drink or the fire or...something else, but didn't pull away from the embrace. He didn't want to be Firelord today, he just wanted to be Zuko.

"He'll get plenty of attention later tonight," Katara said, and Zuko felt his face flush further. He definitely didn't  _ feel _ like any Firelord at the moment. But Katara's comment had certainly put to rest his musings on where they still stood.

Aang still had his hand on Zuko's shoulder and massaged it affectionately. Zuko stared dumbly at the hand, trying to process this new development, embarrassed but not finding the touch unwelcome. Not at all, in fact, and it could have been the drink or the touch of a hand that was larger and stronger than he remembered, and gentle, but Zuko never knew what he wanted to say and he always felt inadequate when it came to what he wanted to say to the people he loved, even Katara, so he said nothing, but somehow Aang seemed to be able to read his nothing and why did he have to be so damned  _ perceptive _ ? Then Aang leaned towards Katara and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle.

Zuko was glad that Sokka had gone off somewhere to swap war stories with the other young men, because he could tell that the heat rising to his cheeks must be visible. In front of them, the great bonfire flared and burned a little brighter.


End file.
